by Daphne Maple
Sasha was checking her phone.
“Any new messages from potential clients?” Kim asked. Alice forwarded all Dog Club voice mails to Sasha’s phone.
Sasha shook her head. “No, and no messages in the Dog Club email in-box either,” she said.
Kim twisted a lock of hair, a sign she was worried about something. “I think we need a few new clients,” she said. “Now that Sierra’s gone, we don’t have that many regular dogs coming to the club.”
“We have great word of mouth,” Sasha said. “The clients we have love us, and I know they’re spreading the word. I’m sure we’ll have some new people signing up soon.”
I nodded. “Remember how Mrs. Washington said she was telling her neighbor about us,” I said to Kim, who was prone to stressing about things before they were a real problem. “I bet we’ll hear from her this week and maybe some other people too.”
Kim let out a sigh and then smiled. “I’m sure you guys are right,” she said.
We’d reached the corner of Spring Street. “See you tomorrow,” I said.
My friends waved and we all headed home.
2
The smell of Jasmine’s world-famous (or at least family-famous) Southern fried chicken greeted me when I walked in the door.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said after I’d dropped my stuff in the front hall and arrived in the kitchen. It was a cheerful room with yellow walls, big windows, and a breakfast bar where we ate in the morning and sometimes for lunch on weekends. My dad insisted on dinners in the dining room though; he called it our civilized meal of the day.
“I’ll set the table,” I said, remembering it was my night and opening the drawer in the wooden island that held our big collection of silverware.
“Great,” she said, drizzling dressing onto the salad she’d made. “Dad should be home any minute.”
My dad worked long hours at Sasha’s mom’s law firm, so my sisters and I were in charge of dinner and cleaning during the week. My dad made up for it on weekends, when he’d get the barbecue going and grill ribs and pulled pork like back home.
“How was your day?” my sister Tasha asked as she walked in. She and Jasmine were twins, though they had always been pretty easy to tell apart, even before Tasha chopped off all her hair into a short Afro a few months ago. Tasha wanted to be a social worker, so she always talked about feelings and “social dynamic.” Jasmine, who wore her hair in braids like mine, was on the fast track to become a doctor, so she always had her nose in a biology book and she treated her cooking nights as carefully as a surgeon. Which meant everything she made was pretty delicious.
I was about to tell Tash about my day when a loud, crabby voice made us all turn in alarm.
Coming into the kitchen, her face in a fierce frown, was Anna, the sister who was a royal pain. Okay, she was also a math genius and the one who organized everything around the house, like the cooking schedule and the laundry. But it seemed like her main job was giving me a hard time. And sure enough, it was me she was glaring at.
“Who did this?” she demanded, holding up some scraps of paper.
“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging and going back to the silverware.
“Someone cut up Your Roxbury Park before I had a chance to read it,” Anna snapped. “And I’m pretty sure I know exactly who that someone is.”
Your Roxbury Park was the Sunday magazine section of the local paper, The Roxbury Park Gazette. Everyone in town loved Your Roxbury Park because it featured fun stories from local families and businesses, things that made everyone feel good about our town.
And I actually had been the one to cut it up.
“I needed some pictures for an art collage,” I told Anna as I brushed by, a bunch of forks in hand.
“You can’t cut up the paper before everyone in the family has a chance to read it,” she snapped, following me into the dining room, where I began putting the silver out on the big pecan-wood table that my parents had gotten for a wedding present. It was covered with blue striped placemats and matching napkins that my grandmother made for us.
“It’s Tuesday,” I pointed out calmly. Anna hated when I talked to her like she was four instead of fourteen.
“Thanks, I’m aware of what day it is,” she said in a biting tone. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that the paper came out on Sunday so you’ve had days to read it,” I said, heading back to the kitchen for drinks. In fairness, I had cut up the paper on Sunday night, but since Anna hadn’t discovered it until now, there was no reason to admit this.
“I had a big math test to study for,” Anna snapped. “I didn’t have time to read the paper until today.”
I shrugged as I pulled out water glasses and began to fill them.
“You’re such a brat,” Anna snapped, knowing how much I hated that word.
“It’s not my fault you waited until Tuesday to read the Sunday paper,” I said between clenched teeth. “And don’t call me that.”
“You have to check with everyone in the house before you damage family property,” Anna said righteously.
“The newspaper is not family property,” I snapped, my calm replaced by anger that burned hot in my belly. Which was how I always seemed to feel after talking to Anna for more than five minutes. “It’s just paper and we get a new one every day. It’s not like I cut up the living room curtains.”
“Let’s try to work this out together,” Tasha said, ever the peacemaker.
“Don’t practice your psych homework on us,” Anna said, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t be mean to Tash,” I said, though I kind of secretly agreed with Anna. It was irritating when Tasha pretended to be the family therapist. But I wasn’t going to take Anna’s side now, not after she called me a brat.
Tasha threw up her hands. “Whatever,” she said.
“You have to promise you won’t cut up the paper again,” Anna told me, crossing her arms over her chest like she was some kind of army drill sergeant. Which would be a really good career choice for her.
“No,” I said, infuriated at how she always tried to boss me around. “You can’t tell me what to do!”
“Then I’m telling Dad!” Anna shouted back.
“Telling Dad what?” We’d been so loud that neither of us had heard my dad come in. Now he was standing in the doorway, still in his blue work suit, looking tiredly between me and Anna.
“Nothing, Daddy,” Anna said quickly.
“Everything’s fine,” I added.
We girls didn’t like to make things hard for our dad. We knew it was tough for him raising four girls on his own, ever since Mom had died six years ago, and we didn’t want to make it any tougher. I really did try to get along with my sisters; it was just that Anna made it impossible.
“It seems like the two of you have been bickering a lot lately,” he said.
“That’s the truth,” Tasha muttered as she began collecting the water glasses I’d filled to take out to the table.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling bad.
“We’ll try to do better,” Anna added.
As soon as Dad had headed upstairs to change, I shot Anna a furious look. “That was your fault,” I whispered angrily.
“Actually it was yours,” she said frostily, then sashayed out of the kitchen, getting in the last word like always.
I finished filling up glasses, seething as I poured. Being the littlest sister was a drag, but being Anna’s little sister was the worst.
3
“Good girl,” I told Gracie as she carefully deposited a chewed-up teddy bear at my feet. For some reason this was her toy of choice, and she always had it to herself since the other dogs preferred fetching balls. I grabbed the bear and tossed it across the shelter, and Gracie went skittering after it.
Rain pattered gently on the roof and windows of the shelter. Usually I preferred sunny days to rainy ones, but there was something cozy about being warm and playing with dogs while the rain came down. T
he weather seemed to have a calming effect on the dogs too. They were playing, of course, but the energy in the room was lower than usual. Or maybe it was just me. Brianna had been talking about me as we walked out of school. I couldn’t hear what she was saying and I didn’t really know the girls she was with, so it shouldn’t have mattered. But the way her eyes glinted as she looked at me, lowering her voice when I passed, made me feel like I’d swallowed something hard and sharp. It was still gnawing at me, though Gracie coming up with her bear and wagging her tail at me helped. Kim coming over and putting an arm around me helped too.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to smile. I hadn’t told my friends about the stuff with Brianna. I was still hoping it would just go away on its own.
She gave my shoulders a squeeze. “Okay,” she said. She was about to say more when the door of the shelter opened and Tim and Caley came in. They’d been walking under a big black umbrella, which Tim left in the entryway, and their shoes made wet, squelching noises on the floor.
It was weird that Caley and Tim were late; usually they got here before us because the high school let out fifteen minutes earlier. As they came in, I realized both of them were frowning. Clearly something was up.
“Have you guys seen this?” Caley asked, holding out a soggy but colorful piece of paper.
Sasha took it from her, and Kim and I gathered around so we could read it together.
Pampered Puppy was at the top of the page. Pampered Puppy was the fancy grooming place on Main Street that also sold designer collars and expensive dog toys. We’d actually hung flyers there when we were starting the club. But now it looked like they were starting a club of their own. My stomach tightened as I read on.
Does your dog spend lonely hours at home while you’re at work? Let us help! Our professional, trained staff will pamper a select group of dogs who play well together, enjoying companionship, fun, and lots of exercise while you’re at the office. You can check up on your pet anytime—our Doggy Day Care webcams stream live so you don’t have to miss a second of your dog’s good time at our new, top-of-the-line doggy care center.
My stomach was now knotted up as I looked at the photo on the bottom of the page. Even on a water-stained piece of paper, you could see how fancy their care center was: huge with a gleaming wooden floor, brand-new dog toys, and smiling staff. Adult staff.
“Uh-oh,” Kim said.
“Yeah,” Tim said with a sigh. “That’s what we said too.”
“This place looks so fancy,” Sasha said, her eyes still on the page. “A lot of dog owners are really going to like that.”
“Plus their staff is trained,” Kim said glumly. “And they’re grown-ups, not just kids like us.”
“I consider myself to be very mature,” Caley said, then sighed. “But I see your point.”
“And they have a webcam,” I said. All of it was bad, but somehow that seemed the biggest blow. My dog photos on our blog could never compete with an actual live view of the dogs anytime an owner wanted one. And there was no way we could move Alice’s computer out of her office and use the webcam on that to film our dogs; Alice was too busy working in the afternoons.
“I wish we could post photos of us with the dogs,” Sasha said. “So people could see how much fun they have with us.” Since the blog was public, our parents and Alice only let us post dog pictures, none of us.
“That would be great,” I said with a sigh because I knew our parents and Alice were never going to change their minds on that one.
Kim put an arm around me again but I could feel how tense she was when she squeezed me.
“This is bad, you guys,” Sasha said.
I looked around at our sad little group. Caley was biting her lip, Tim was running his hands through his hair, and Sasha was still staring at the flyer like it was something dangerous.
I squared my shoulders. “Come on, y’all,” I said. “We can’t let a little flyer get us down.”
Sasha grinned. “I love it when you go Southern on us,” she said.
Caley shook her head as though coming out of a trance. “Taylor’s right,” she said. “This isn’t necessarily a problem. I mean, who knows—it could be super expensive or close in a week. We have a great business, we’re getting new clients all the time, and, professional or not, we are super good at taking care of dogs.”
As though he agreed, Boxer ran up to Caley and barked happily. Caley laughed and rubbed his ears.
“The families we have love our club,” Sasha said, sounding slightly more optimistic. “I don’t think any of them would ever leave.”
But Kim was twisting her hair. “We need some new clients though,” she said. “And having competition in town will make that harder.”
“The flyer says they take a select group of dogs,” Tim said. “Aside from sounding snobby, that also sounds like they are only looking for a few clients. So hopefully they’ll just get people whose dogs wouldn’t work at our club anyway.”
“Leaving everyone else for us,” Caley said triumphantly.
Sasha had finally set down the flyer, and Kim was bending down to pet Hattie, who had come over for some attention. Kim’s movements were relaxed and I knew she was feeling better. It seemed like we all were.
Then Sasha’s phone beeped with a message. “Oh, it’s from Alice,” she said, looking at the screen. “She forwarded me an email.”
Kim and I exchanged a happy look as Sasha read the message; it had to be a call from a possible client! Clearly things were just fine for the Roxbury Park Dog Club, no matter who else was opening a care center.
“It was Mrs. Washington’s neighbors and they sounded really interested,” Sasha bubbled as she stuffed her phone into her pocket. “They said they’d look at the website and then get in touch again.”
“What kind of dog do they have?” Kim asked, a slight crease between her brows. I knew she was thinking of Sierra and Clarabelle and wanted to make sure the dog would be a good fit for the club.
“An older collie mix who loves to play,” Sasha said.
Kim smiled. “Sounds like she’d be a great addition to the club.”
Lily bounded up to us, a red ball in her mouth. Coco and Gracie were right behind her. The crisis had passed and it was time to play! Kim picked up the ball and sent it sailing across the room. Sasha began a game of tug-of-war with Hattie, and I headed over to Humphrey and Popsicle, who were in the back corner. Humphrey was clearly debating whether or not to take a nap, while Popsicle was nosing at a green chew toy.
“Let’s play some catch,” I said to them, picking up a tennis ball. Both dogs took off when I threw it. It always made me smile to see Humphrey run on his short little legs, his long ears rippling. Run actually wasn’t the right word since he moved pretty slowly, but he clearly thought he was the fastest dog in the room and seemed surprised when Popsicle reached the tennis ball first.
“You’ll get it next time,” I told him, deciding to throw two balls so that he’d have a chance.
“Afternoon, everyone,” Alice said, coming in and shaking the rain off her umbrella. She’d gone to the post office as soon as we’d arrived. “How’s it going?”
I looked at Kim and Sasha, remembering the flyer and how anxious it had made us. But now it didn’t seem like that big a deal.
“Everything’s great,” I said firmly.
4
“It’s getting late,” Kim said, peering down Spring Street toward Sasha’s house. We were on the corner where the three of us met up every morning so we could walk to school together. Sasha was usually the last to arrive since she was prone to forgetting things and having to run back. But she was always here by 8:15 and now it was almost 8:20. If we didn’t leave in the next minute or two, we were going to be late.
“Yeah, it is,” I said, looking to see if I could catch a glimpse of Sasha running to meet us. “Do you think she’s sick?”
Kim shook her head. “She’d text if she wasn’t com
ing.”
“Maybe she has a dentist appointment and forgot to tell us?” I asked.
Kim bit her lip for a moment. “I guess that’s possible, but she usually complains for days before the dentist because she hates having her teeth cleaned.”
This was the kind of thing that Kim, as Sasha’s longtime best friend, knew better than me. But it instantly made sense; Sasha had a thing about stuff getting stuck in her mouth and didn’t even like lollipops.
“What should we do?” Kim asked, twisting at her hair. I knew the thought of being tardy stressed her out.
I was about to answer when my phone vibrated. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw that there was a text from Sasha. “She says to go ahead without her,” I said after I’d read it. “She just got back from walking Mr. S and still has to feed him.”
Kim frowned as we started walking toward school. Actually it was almost jogging since we wanted to get there before the first bell. “This isn’t like Sasha,” she said.
“I know,” I agreed. “I mean, she forgets stuff, but this is different.”
“Yeah,” Kim said. “She might mess up little things but nothing big, like getting a tardy on her school record.”
“It’s probably hard for her to get up earlier now that she has a dog to walk before school,” I said, thinking about how Sasha was always the last one up at sleepovers.
“I bet her mom’s not happy,” Kim said with a sigh.
I nodded knowingly. Sasha’s mom was kind of a superwoman. She was raising Sasha on her own (though Sasha did see her dad in the summers when she’d go stay with him in Seattle), she ran a law firm, her house was spotless, and she always looked perfect, never a hair out of place. And needless to say, she was never, ever late.
“Maybe she’ll give Sasha a ride,” I said hopefully as the redbrick school building came into view. “Give her a break since she’s still adjusting to being a dog owner.”
“I hope so,” Kim said as we dashed up the front steps.
